Silent Sunday (4)

The sprinkler jumping championships. 

Swollen bellies and bumps (3)

It was a month before Esme's third birthday and before my baby was due. It was a scorching hot July day, the sort we rarely see. I was having a little party for Esme as I wasn't sure, if on her actual day, I might be giving birth.

Swollen bellies and bumps (2)

It was a beautiful bright red dress that had done the rounds for many a pregnant friend, and now, it was my turn. I was well into my nine months, and wearing it well.

Swollen bellies and bumps (1)

"My bump is huge. People want to touch it. People do. Why is it that complete strangers, have no qualms in placing their hands upon the swollen belly of a mum to be... when they don't even bloody well know you? Madness. My bump is so huge, perhaps they think it comes with an unspoken invite? Yet, if I turn around, you would never know I was up the duff. Look, if one more person has a feel, I may have to start walking backwards?!"

If, as a pregnant woman, you too, carried heavily, you will probably know exactly what I'm on about here... many people simply cannot resist the urge to lay their hands upon your baby bump. 

A fine example is the complete stranger in the checkout queue; usually a little old lady, who actually believes it is her God given right to touch your pregnant self. 

They nonchalantly glance at you, and then they clock your bump, and then they light up. Suddenly they're beside you, talking to you, asking all manner of frank questions; 'When are you due?', 'Is it your first?', 'How are you feeling?', (out of my comfort zone now). At the same time, they just cannot help themselves... (one hand), the gentle pat, the prod, the smooth, and (both hands), the squeeze, and sometimes, Lord help me, even the push. 

It's difficult to say get off isn't it? I would carry on as normal, perhaps trying to busy myself with the shop in the process. Only then, would they maybe sense that actually this wasn't their cargo to coo over and I wasn't a mother to smother. 

Having been reminded in the previous (pregnancy diary) post of how big my baby bump became, I've since remembered two tales that now need to be told. One involves an awkward grandpa lunge and grab, and the other involves the delightful matter of poo! See, said I had a lot of poo stories. I just have to write them down.

Even more down to earth with a bump (11)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

WEEK TWENTY-NINE

I began this week of pregnancy in a tent for two nights. Interesting! Honestly I was fine - but the day we packed the camp up, we also flew to Spain. 

Not doing things by half ever; we arrived at Alicante airport at midnight. I had a slight moment when I saw the car rental company's child seat, but decided to ignore the fact that it looked like something my mum had once strapped me in almost forty years earlier. 

I let the tension fall away once Esme fell asleep. All at once we were on the open road, and Simon and I were holding hands, heading to our apartment aware of a whole ten days of being out of reach. My idea of bliss.

Breakfast musings of a 4YO

E: If my yoghurt was puke it wouldn't taste very nice, would it?

Questioning the (inherent) art of procrastination...

Did I always procrastinate? Bloody hell yes. And I believe I became incredibly creative in doing so.

As the youngest teen child of three, also expected to help out with the dinner/dishes and other such duties, I would usually manage to have something else to do. Such as have a friend telephone at that  time.

And then, prior to homework and piano practise, I'd apply make-up. Not that I had any, but my sister did... 

Silent Sunday (3)

Musings of a 4YO

E: Mummy, shhh! Do you want to know a secret?

M: Of course. What's that then?

E: Shhh, don't tell anyone. My Granny is a pirate.

M: Does Granny know?

And they all lived happily ever after

A few weeks ago I took part in a blog hop for Emma Day. Today this post serves as a reminder that she may have been reunited with her three babies, but that she is still fighting thyroid cancer. I'm still thinking of her, as are many in the blogging sphere. 

I wrote this prose inspired by her bright spirit for as far as I can tell, with regards to how Emma has viewed living with cancer, she has only ever looked forward. This is the very thought I started with... 

FRAMED

Food from Arabia. In particular, Lebanon. 

An Arabian night - & other such silly sessions

Question is, are we all just a little bit mad? Or are we simply parents of small kids, that clearly don't get out that often?! Either way, I don't care. It's such great fun!

We have a great group of friends that we've made through having our children (see there are perks), and as the years have gone on, they've become closer. Especially since our babies all begun school together. Anyway, back in the Autumn last year, one of the couples took it upon themselves to invite the others for dinner - it was to turn into a themed evening that was to snowball into a bi-monthly event. 

Now I'll be the first to admit, that when they suggested Mexican, I oohed and aahed at the prospect of such tasty food. But when they then asked us to adopt the local costume too, I thought that a little bit strange. 

I'm NOT going to Britmums live!

But it would appear that the rest of the entire blogging community that is the writing parenthood, is.

Am I jealous? No. Envious. Yes. That's it, envious.

I didn't get my arse in gear quick enough. No. I didn't realise, until it was too late. And now, I'm all about the wishing. Which is never good.

Even more down to earth with a bump (10)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

WEEK TWENTY-SIX

Well it had to happen. And if it was going to happen? It had to happen on a Friday the 13^th.

Musings of a 4YO

E: Happy Father's day Daddy!
D: Thank you Esme.
(Daddy opens present. Esme muses).

E: Is it Mother's day next?
D: Not for a while.
(Esme muses some more).

E: Is there a little girl's day?

FRAMED

The natural beauty of the pomegranate fruit

Word gets around

A creative site for travel reviews is now up and running. And it's alive and kicking. And what's more, you can check out my latest travel words there! Picked up I may add, from the editor after he saw a previous travel post of mine on this very blog. (Remember that pool of puke?!). 
So if you plan on visiting anywhere, please visit the site. It's lush. And very helpful. In an advanced social media sort of way... Triptease 
p.s. If you think you may detect a little bit of a blow my own trumpet/toot my own horn vibe, yep, you'd be right. I'm pretty excited about this. For me, the blend of creative writing and travel is exactly what I'm all about. Perhaps, if this is a style of travel writing you also love, you could get in touch with Triptease and put your own travel tales about for others to share as well.

Toilet talk of a 4YO

So Esme (my gregarious 4YO), comes falling into my room, still groggy with doze, and whispers,

E: Mummy, I am absolutely starving for the toilet.

LIFE AS IT HAPPENED TO WORK OUT - So far!

Tonight I am borrowing from a post I've read over at the lovely blog White Feathers and so much more. The author, (do you know I don't know her name - she is the blogging friend who sees white feathers), is soon coming to a crossroads. Her children will both be at school and she feels there must be a change. But she is not sure what she wants to do. Or rather be. If you go and visit her blog and read her post, 'What will you be when you grow up?' you will see what I mean! Anyway, this was my response, which I felt was a very LIFE AS IT IS sort of post, all of its own, and with White Feathers permission, I am duplicating. Thank you dear! 

Feral child no.2 & her new found water fountain

The most fabulous thing just dawned on Sofia Faith while in the tub... that if she doesn't actually drink the bath water, she can propel it at her sister instead - by squirting it via the gap between her front teeth. Oh my feral child number two.